Autumn
by Miss Puppet
Summary: She tried to enjoy these last weeks she had with him as much as she could, tried to imprint every moment they had together in her memory, knowing that once he had left, it would never come back. Mr Carson is forced to consider retirement.
1. Chapter 1

**Autumn  
**_Rated_: K+  
_Pairings_: Carson/Hughes  
Disclaimer: It could not be less mine. Julian Fellowes wrote Downton Abbey, which is produced by Carnival Films for ITV Network.  
_Spoiler: _Contains spoilers for season 2 and the Christmas special. Read at own risk!  
_Summary_: She tried to enjoy these last weeks she had with him as much as she could, knowing that once he had left, it would never come back. Mr Carson is forced to consider retirement.  
_Genre_: Romance

_A/N: For a long time I've felt/hoped that this could be a possible outcome for the final season of Downton Abbey.  
One of my shorter, a-chapter-a-day stories. _

* * *

**Chapter 1**

A great many things changed after that memorable first Christmas after the war. Lady Sybil had married Tom Branson and moved to Ireland. Lady Mary and Matthew Crawley got married in a lovely spring wedding, went to Italy and Greece for their honeymoon and settled at the Crawley House upon their return.  
To the great astonishment of the family and the entire community of Downton, Isobel Crawley married Dr Richard Clarkson and moved into his cottage near the hospital.  
Lady Edith remained behind with her parents and a hint of melancholy. She tried to keep her spirits up and spend a lot of time with her grandmother. And as the months wore on it became notably obvious that Sir Anthony Strallan visited the Grantham Estate remarkably often. And after a lot of shared teas, walks over the grounds and car rides, with many shy glances and lingering looks and much discrete insisting on Edith´s side that she still thought the world of him, Sir Anthony finally overcame his feelings of inferiority and proposed, thus making Lady Edith Lady Strallan in the summer that followed.

After that the house grew quiet. Anna went with Lady Mary, who reassured her that she and her husband would do everything to see that John Bates would be released from prison. Thomas left to become an entrepreneur in London. Mrs Patmore retired and moved to Leicester to live with her sister and Daisy took over the kitchen.  
There was less to do and less hurry to do it and after all the strain and hardship of the past years, Elsie found it a blessing. Things were finally getting back to normal.

Only, they didn´t. Not really at least. After the hustle and bustle of first Lady Mary´s and then Lady Edith´s wedding she found herself to be extraordinary tired. At first she thought a week of early tuck-in´s would cure her, but it was not so. As the summer morphed into autumn she began to find that where she'd once had almost unlimited energy and could be on her feet all day after only six hours of sleep, she now barely could keep her eyes open after nine and often woke with a startle after she´d dozed off above her knitting.  
And in the mornings, when young Molly, the new scullery maid banged on the door of her bedroom, it became more and more difficult to wake up and drag herself out of bed.  
Her eyes became weary after she had spent a morning pouring over the rota´s, stinging with tiredness until her vision became so bleary she could barely read her own handwriting.

* * *

On a cold and dreary morning early October, Elsie sat herself down at the breakfast table, still not fully awake and overlooked her staff. They still employed an ample number of maids, because a house the size of Downton required a lot of hands to be kept, but with its inhabiting family so diminished, the staff was still considerably less than what it had been before the war.

The heavy and slow sound of nearing footsteps alerted her to the fact that Mr Carson was entering the Servant´s Hall. He heavily sat himself down at the head of the table and gave a small nod with his head, indicating that they could start on their breakfast. Wordlessly she poured him a cup of coffee and then one for herself and he showed his thanks with a small smile.

Whatever discomforts she was experiencing, she knew he was suffering them tenfold. He had recovered from the Spanish flu that had raged the house a year prior, but he had never fully regained his strength and although she loathed it to admit, she began to worry about him more and more. She knew his movements had become more difficult and that he found it challenging, if not impossible, to stand to attention in the dining rooms for hours of late. After a lot of gentle probing he had finally agreed to see Dr Clarkson about his sore feet and was diagnosed with gout. She was the only one who knew – who he had chosen to tell so far and she watched him with a heavy heart as he tried to carry on as normal, while suffering in silence.

The first bell of the morning rang and she watched him rise to his feet with some difficulty and walk away. His gout was playing up again, she could tell from his strained posture and his slow walk. The weather was far too cold for his health and the chilly, draughty bedrooms where the servants slept weren´t helping one bit either. He paused a moment before ascending the stairs and for a split second she saw his face consorting in pain, causing her own heart to sink.

* * *

The day past relatively uneventful and the evening found them both in his pantry, her with her knitting on the sofa and him with the paper in his armchair. The fire blazed and Elsie reflected that this hour of quiet, domestic routine was turning into the highlight of her day.

Taking another sip off her tea, she stifled a great yawn. She wasn´t ready to go to bed already. Not yet anyway. She needed another fifteen minutes of this blissful peace. And she wanted to finish her project.

Another ten minutes later she happily cut off the last thread and started to wind up the remains of the wool. When she looked up she found him looking at her with tired eyes and a soft smile.

"You look ready to drop off any minute,' he commented quietly.

"I suppose I am," she replied, mirroring his smile. "It's been another long day. I think I'm about to turn in."

"That would be for the best," he nodded, bending down do retrieve a wayward ball of yarn.

"I'm beginning to feel like a terrible bore," Elsie spoke up with a sigh, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "A cup of tea and bed at eight… I'm turning into a right gammer."

He chuckled lightly at her words. "I beg to differ on that, although… "

"Although what?" she insisted, fixing him a look.

"Perhaps you should think about letting Molly wake you up an hour later from now on…" he suggested carefully.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Carson, but I am still quite capable of carrying out my duties," she answered defiantly.

"I never said that you weren't," he replied calmly, raising his hand to placate her. "But it might make things a bit easier for you. You are exhausted in the evenings and you really don't need to be up at the crack of dawn anymore. Your maids know what to do… you've trained them well. At least consider it, will you?"

"I'll think about it," she relented, though still looking doubtful.

"That's all I'm asking for at the moment," he smiled.

"I will go to bed now," she said, though without moving. Instead she held out her little project to him. "Here, I made you these."

He took both items from her and turned them around in his hands.  
"They're bed socks," she explained with a slight smile as she noticed his confusion. "They'll keep your feet warm at night."

"This is what you've been working on these last few evenings?" he asked her, his face a mixture of incredulously and gratitude. "You've made these for me?"

"Yes, well…"After all these years he could still make her feel flustered when he looked at her like that. "Those attics are cold enough as it is."

'Thank you," he said sincerely. "This means a lot to me."

"You're more than welcome," she told him, brushing past him as she made her way to the door.

"Goodnight, Mr Carson."

"Good night, Mrs Hughes."

* * *

**New start to another story... please let me know what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

On Friday the following week he failed to show up for breakfast. Elsie was late to notice this, as she was just downstairs herself, having taken his suggestion to heart to start her day an hour later than she was accustomed to. Only when breakfast had already started and none of the other servants had seen the butler up and about yet, she began to worry that something was amiss.  
She briefly debated whether or not she ought to go upstairs and check on him. It was rather improper, after all. Still, she had nursed him through a nervous attack and the Spanish flu, the world wouldn't fall apart if she went in his bedroom now. Having reached her decision, she told the staff to continue with their breakfast and made her way upstairs. Trespassing through the door of the men's corridor she came to stand in front of his bedroom door. She knocked clearly, not wanting to startle him by barging in unannounced. But when no reply came forward, she gingerly opened the door and peeked inside.

He was still asleep and as her heart grew heavy with worry as she neared the bed in three swift strides. To her endless relief he appeared to be only sound asleep. Carefully she reached out and brushed her hand across his forehead and cheek. He felt a little warm, but it was obvious that this was caused by sleep and not because of any fever. Gently she began to shake his shoulder.

"Mr Carson… Mr Carson, wake up!" she urged, but he only rolled to his side and grunted, snuggling deeper in the bedcovers.  
For a fleeting moment she contemplated just letting him sleep. It was clear that he was in the middle of a deep, restful sleep and he looked so very peaceful.

But he would never forgive her for it. So with renewed vigour she shook him again and called out his name. This time she managed to wake him from his slumber and he did so groggily, staring at her in disbelief.  
"Mrs Hughes…" he finally managed to bark out, his voice still gruff from sleep.

"I'm sorry Mr Carson, but you´ve overslept. It's already a quarter to eight," she told him gently.

"WHAT!" he thundered, shooting upright and swinging his legs over the edge. "Breakfast to the family will be served in less than fifteen minutes… this is unheard of… I beg you to excuse me, Mrs Hughes, I'll be down instantly."

"Don't get yourself worked up," she said reassuringly. "We can always have Lily serving breakfast. Just get dressed and have a bit of breakfast yourself."  
From the look he was giving her she could tell he was thinking of a polite way to get her out of his bedroom as quick as possible and she backed slowly to the door. "Just… take your time."

* * *

Of course he did nothing of the sort. He was down, fully dressed and shaven in exactly seven minutes. She marvelled at how he'd managed it. But still she loitered around the breakfast room in case he needed her assistance. After about twenty minutes, he emerged from the small dining room, where the family usually had their breakfast, his face ashen and with a noticeable limb. She was at his side in an instant, grabbing his elbow to support him. "Are you alright, Mr Carson?" she exclaimed in a hushed tone.

He began to nod, but then groaned. "Could you help me downstairs?" She noticed it was his right leg that seemed to give him the most trouble and she switched sides, allowing him to lean on her as much as possible.  
Thankfully they didn't encounter any servants on their way down and she quickly helped him into his pantry.  
"Would you like me to send someone upstairs to finish the breakfast service, or would you like me to do it myself?" she offered.

"No need," he shook his head. "His Lordship had already finished his breakfast and O'Brien has taken a tray to her Ladyship." Unceremoniously he kicked off his right shoe and sighed with the relief this brought him.

"Is your foot giving you trouble again?" she asked sympathetically.

He nodded with his eyes closed. "I've been up for the best part of the night," he admitted. "At one point I seriously considered chopping that blasted toe off."

"Shall I call for Dr Clarkson then?" she asked, deciding there and then that regardless of his answer, the doctor would come. She would not watch him suffer like this and do nothing to help him.

He remained quiet for a few moments and then he nodded haltingly. "Yes… yes, I think that would be best."

* * *

Before she even managed to reach the telephone she was stopped by Lord Grantham who beckoned her into his library. Barely able to hide her impatience from him, Elsie clasped her hands together in front of her and awaited his request.

"Mrs Hughes…" the Earl of Grantham began haltingly. "I was wondering if you've noticed… if you could tell me… How's Carson doing? Really, that is?

"May I ask what has brought this on, Milord?" she ventured carefully.

"When he left the dining room this morning he appeared to be in a great deal of pain," Lord Grantham explained. "And he has never left before me. It causes me to worry. He told me a while ago that he is suffering from gout."

Since he had told his Lordship himself, Elsie thought there could be no harm in agreeing. "He is, milord," she confirmed.

"How bad is it?" Lord Grantham asked anxiously? "Are his duties becoming too much for him?"

Elsie bit her lip, unsure how to answer. She hated being put in a position like this. She couldn't lie and say that he was fine. But she couldn't express her growing worries concerning his health either. Taking a deep breath she replied eventually: "You can be assured that no matter what, Mr Carson will always serve this house to his full ability, your Lordship."

In response the Earl of Grantham nodded thoughtfully, but the brooding expression never fully left his eyes. "Thank you Mrs Hughes. That was most helpful."

* * *

As it transpired, with some additional rest and a prescription from Dr Clarkson to cure the inflammation, he was more or less back on his feet by the end of the next week. Elsie was grateful for it. After her brief conversation with his Lordship, she couldn't shake off the ominous feeling that something was about to happen. There was, decidedly, a bit of an atmosphere.  
October was nearing its end now and after a glorious summer, the autumn came with clouded, rainy days. Even if it was still afternoon, Elsie had turned the electric lighting in her parlour on, but nevertheless, she was still struggling to make sense of the invoices. Turning around in her chair, she tried to catch as much light as possible, but failing rather abysmally.

Upon hearing a knock on the door, she hastily put them down on her desk again and called for admittance. The door opened to reveal Mr Carson, carrying a table lamp she recognized from what had been Lady Sybil's room.

"Her Ladyship is sorting through the things that belonged to the young ladies," he explained. "This lamp is to go to the attic to be stored away, but I thought you might have use for it."

"I… oh well…" she stammered, a little taken aback.

"If I may be so bold as to venture a suggestion," he continued, "it would go nicely on the top of your desk."

A look passed between them and she knew exactly what he was up to. Her shoulders relaxed a little and she gave a small nod. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

He insisted on setting up the lamp for her and after he had left she returned to her invoices, who had become decidedly easier to read now.

* * *

**As always, reviews are very much apreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews. They mean the world. _

* * *

**Chapter 3**

As it had happen with so many things before this, he told her first. Sitting in her parlour they shared a cup of tea. He'd offered her some wine, but where she had once enjoyed their nightcap, she now found her stomach didn't agree as well with it as it used to and it caused her to wake up even more groggily than she was already accustomed to these days.

"His Lordship was kind enough to offer me a cottage in the village," he told her with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Or on the estate if I preferred it, but he thought it might be a bit too remote."

"That's very considered of him," she replied, trying very hard to swallow down the lump forming in her throat. She had expected this after all, she really had. But now that he spoke the words it suddenly all became frightening real. "Have you accepted his offer?"

"I've requested some time to think it over," he admitted. "It seemed a too… momentous decision to make in spur of a moment."

"Of course," she nodded. "But you are thinking about it, aren't you?"

"I am," he conceded. "I've always thought I would stay here till the very end… die in the harness, so to speak. I never quite expected my body to fail me this way. I can't continue fooling people, pretending that I can maintain the standards of the house while I can't even… stand up straight myself at times." His voice turned a tinge bitter at the last words, his frustration clearly showing.

"You're not fooling anyone, Mr Carson," she jumped in straight away, determined to dispel any kind of self-judging nonsense the man was sprouting about himself. "You've given the best years of your life to this house and its family. You deserve some rest now."

"Still, it's not how it is supposed to go," he countered stubbornly.

She huffed at that and decided to go from another angle to make him see sense. "Have you ever stopped to consider that the family might _want_ to do this for you? That after all these years they have come to care for you in return just as much as you care for them?"

"Oh… well…" he stammered a little at that, his ears turning pink and she knew she had struck a chord.  
"Really," she pressed on. "If Lady Mary knew the condition you were in, she'd came barging in here, demanding you'd get off your feet and not take no for an answer. The girl is becoming more like her grandmother each day."

This caused him to laughed out loud. "Is this praise or rebuke on Lady Mary's address?" he teased her.

"Oh, I don't know," she gave him a crocked smile. "I've told you once that I didn't think she deserved your affection. But I will say now that I am certain she returns it at least."

It was their old squabble. And if in recent years, in the light of her support of Anna, she had warmed up a little to the eldest Crawley daughter - just a little, mind you – she was careful not to show it too obvious.

He quickly turned serious again. "Do you think I should retire?"

She ignored the fact that her heart sank to the pit of her stomach at the thought of him leaving. This wasn't about her after all.  
"You're the only one who can make that decision, Mr Carson. But I hope you will make it with your own best interests at heart."

* * *

In another fortnight his mind was made up. He would retire after new year and move into one of the estate cottages, the one near the village. Surprisingly enough there seemed to be a certain amount of peace about him once his decision was made. Without having to pretend any longer that nothing was the matter it became easier for him to accept his declining health.  
He even started to plan his life after retirement. He had always been interested in history of the British gentry and he resolved to make a study of it once he was at leisure to do so. The thought of spending the reminder of his life pursuing his own interests was a lot less daunting than he had feared even a few years ago.

Just the thought of being able to sit down when he wished it if his gout was troubling him became a rather blissful prospect on the evenings he almost couldn't stand the burning pain and the confinements of his shoes any longer.  
Thus he consistently tried to focus on the benefits of his retirement and attempted to neglect any other feeling of regret or apprehension.

Until one evening, about two months before his retirement.  
He had escorted the Dowager Countess outside and helped her into the car.  
She had aged significantly in the last year, her hair was turning white and her once imposing figure became decidedly more fragile. Yet her mind and her mouth were as sharp as ever.

"Are you looking forward to your retirement, Carson?" she inquired, indicating to the chauffeur that he wasn't to pull up just yet.

"I am, your Ladyship," he answered with a small bow. "Although I will miss Downton most keenly."

"I thought I´d feel the same when I moved to the Dowager House," the former Lady Grantham replied thoughtfully. "But Carson, you'll probably find, as I did, that in the end a house is just that. A house. The sense of incompleteness is generally caused by something else altogether."

"Your Ladyship?" he asked frowning, not really comprehending her meaning. Then his gaze fell on lightly intertwined hands, the fingers of her one hand gently stroking the two wedding bands she still wore on her ring finger.

"Living alone can become very lonely, Carson," she spoke quietly. "Keep that in mind."

* * *

The weeks seemed to slip away between her fingers. And with every new morning she realized with a sharp pang that it was another day closer to the day he would leave. Oh, she would see him regularly. She´d met him in church, she´d go and see him on her half-days off, but it wouldn´t be quite the same as living under the same roof. As spending every evening together. As living together, working together and generally being an extension of the other.

His Lordship announced early November that Carson was to be succeeded by Mr Molesley, a prospect that, quite frankly, filled her with dread. She supposed Mr Molesley was a good sort of man in his sort, but she doubted sincerely that he would ever be able to fill the shoes of his predecessor. She remembered the wine fiasco last year and shuddered at the thought. She´d have to be more on top of things to ensure the house would be running as smoothly as before and she very much doubted Molesley would command the same amount of respect and obedience Mr Carson had.

She still felt uncommonly tired at the end of each day and she worried how she was ever going to muster up the energy to familiarize herself with working alongside a new butler.

He wouldn´t be there anymore to listen to her ramblings about incompetent new maids, or to raise her spirits after a particular tiresome encounter with one of the merchants from the village. She wouldn't have him to take care of anymore. To fuss over his health or to ensure he wasn´t working himself half to death. She´d never been as devoted to the family as he was. She respected and cared for them well enough, but her focus had always been her little family downstairs. William. Gwen, Ethel, Anna… and her unbendable, reticent, stubborn-as-a-mule butler.

She tried to enjoy these last weeks she had with him as much as she could, tried to imprint every moment they had together in her memory, knowing that once he had left, it would never come back. Sometimes she wished she could just hold on to these moments so that she would never have to face the cold and harsh reality that would come in January. All her beloved birds had left the nest. One of them she´d had to give back to heaven. She had always rallied from it, because he had always been beside her, strong and steady and ever present.

She had to rally again this time. Only she didn´t believe she had the strength anymore to do so.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews. I´ve really enjoyed them. _

* * *

**Chapter 4**

On a crisp, but clear afternoon half way through November he appeared on the threshold of her parlour, dressed in his grey overcoat and bowler.

"Are you going out, Mr Carson?" she inquired with a half-smile.

He nodded solemnly. "His Lordship has informed me that the cottage I will be residing in as of January has become vacant. I'm on my way to have a look at it now."

"That's very exciting," she replied, trying to keep her smile firmly in place.

"Mrs Hughes… I was wondering…" he started hesitantly. "May I ask you to come with me? I think I could use a woman's perspective."

"Of course," she put her pen down and switched the light off. "Let me get my coat and hat."

He helped her in her coat and watched as she fastened her hat with a pin. "You haven't been to the cottage before?" she asked, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"I've walked past it, but I haven't been inside yet," he replied.

"Well, let's have a look then," she announced, turning around and following him out of the house. Once outside he offered her his arm and she slipped her hand around his elbow. Slowly they made their way towards the village were some of Lord Grantham's cottages were located. While they walked and spoke occasionally, Elsie took in the route. She'd be walking here often in the months to come. As often as possible if it were up to her.

Eventually they came to stand in front of a rather spacious cottage. It was plastered white and had grey roof tiles.  
"I think this is it," he commented, checking the copper brass number and retrieving a key from his pocket. He opened the door and allowed her to step in first.

Carefully Elsie wandered inside and looked around. The house was a little dark and carried the somewhat eerie atmosphere of a house that wasn't occupied. But it was clean and proportioned nicely, with tall windows, one overlooking the quiet street the cottage was situated on and one overlooking the garden.

Suddenly the room bathed in light and Elsie whirled around in surprise, noticing that he had just flicked the switch.  
"Mr Crawley had electricity installed here recently," he told her with an amused smile. "He's going to make a fine master of the estate one day."

Privately, Elsie thought to herself that Mr Crawley went to great lengths to please his wife, but she decided not to say anything about it.  
"What do you think of it?" he asked her.

"It's modern and well kept," Elsie looked around her appreciatively and stepped into the kitchen. "The kitchen looks good as well… but more importantly, what do you think?"

"I like that it's close to the village," he admitted. "The shops, the church, everything is close by. The house itself is everything I could wish for and best of all, there are no stairs."

Elsie smiled and took another turn through the room. The cottage was in fact wonderful. It was everything he deserved and she felt a rare rush of absolute gratitude towards the family that was taking care of him so well. Even if it effectively meant that her days of caring for him were nearing its end. Best not to dwell on that now though.

There's a nice, big hearth here," she observed. "You'll have no trouble keeping it warm."

"Would you be happy to live here?" he asked her, his back towards her, seemingly engrossed by inspecting the state of the walls.

"Oh, I don't know…" His question took her somewhat by surprise. "It doesn't really matter, does it? The question is, will you be happy to live here, Mr Carson?"

He turned around and found her gaze, his eyes unreadable. "Just humour me. Would you be happy to live here?"

Taking another look around her, she could suddenly see it. The mantelpiece filled with photographs. A rug in front of a blazing fireplace. A sofa and his armchair. Flowers from the garden on their dinner table. Lamps everywhere so that she was able to read or do her knitting. Blankets ready to grab in case he got chilly. They'd probably have a cat, there was enough of the farm girl left in her to want a pet.

Tears stung her eyes and she needed a few moments before she was able to compose herself. "Yes, Mr Carson, I daresay I'd be very happy here."

He crossed the room to where she was standing, but she avoided his gaze, not wanting to give any of the inner turmoil she was experiencing away. It wasn't until she felt his upper arm brush her shoulder that she finally looked up. He was standing close to her, much closer than he normally did, his face uncommonly anxious.

"Will you come with me?" His voice was hoarse and low and if he'd been speaking any softer she would have thought she had just misheard him.

"W-what?" she managed to stammer at last.

"Come with me, retire with me," he pleaded, his voice still soft. "You won't have to deal with Molesley… I know you dread the prospect," he added with a knowing smile.  
"Instead you can continue to nag me about my health and I can make sure you get enough rest. We could just live here, together, and be very happy don't you think?"

Her mind was reeling with everything he'd just said. Everything she'd been dreaming and fantasizing about since he'd first told her about his retirement.  
"I don't think his Lordship will be too keen on the idea of the two of us living here… it would hardly be proper," she protested feebly though.

"It would be very proper if we were to marry," he ventured carefully.

She had barely recovered from his first proposition when his second proposal knocked the wind out of her. He wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be his wife. He would be her husband and she would be allowed to care for him and love him to her heart's content –  
She stopped herself before she could get too carried away with her own foolish notions. He hadn't mentioned love or affection even. He'd merely stated that they could be happy together, very much in the same fashion as they were now.

"Marriage is not something that should be undertaken lightly, Mr Carson," she said quietly, stressing his title somewhat. "Even at our age."

"_Elsie."_ The sound of her name coming from his lips startled her in looking up to him again and she found his face only inches from hers, his eyes burning into hers. His fingers curled around her hand as he spoke: "I'll be alright leaving Downton and the family, but… I couldn't bear to be separated from you. To not see you or be with you every day. We've lived our lives side by side for so many years and now that we´ve arrived at the last part… I want to spend it with you."

She'd been close to tears for weeks and now a few of them dislodged themselves from her eyes and trickled slowly down her cheeks.  
"Yes…" the small word ended in an even smaller hitch. "I'll marry you, Charles"

He brought their intertwined hands to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers as he brushed his lips over her knuckles.  
"We'll be so very happy here."

* * *

**You didn´t really think I´d let him leave her behind, did you?  
One more chapter to go and as always, I´d love to hear what you think! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"We would like to inform you that Mrs Hughes intends to join me after my retirement in January. We will be married at the first convenient opportunity."

He stood there so tall and dignified as he conveyed what was possible the most important message of his life Elsie mussed as she stood beside him, just as tall and collected and took in the various looks of surprise on the faces surrounding them. Her Ladyship and Lady Mary's eyes were both wide with surprise, Mr Crawley was looking genuinely pleased for them while his Lordship simply gaped at them as if they both had grown an extra head.

Really, Elsie thought fleetingly, after everything that had happened over the years, a daughter marrying the chauffer, a daughter getting involved in a scandal with a Turkish ambassador, after his own questionable behaviour towards a certain maid, he was still rooted in shock at the thought of the two of them marrying at their ancient age.

"But how is that even possible?" he managed at last, earning him an eye-roll form his daughter and a "Darling, please!" from his wife.

"I mean to say," he covered up quickly. "I never knew you had any desire to get married, Carson."

"I was never in the position to marry her, your Lordship," Charles answered pointedly. "Not until now."

Elsie experienced a small jolt as his words and it were Mary's eyes that widened in understanding.

"Very well," Lord Grantham gave in fairly easily. "I'd hate to lose both my butler and my housekeeper on the same day, but…" his face soften a fraction. "I can understand how this will make the both of you very happy."

* * *

Their courtship fell simultaneously with their brief engagement. To anyone else hardly anything changed between them. They'd been acting like an old married couple for the past decade after all. But for her the changes were rather significant. During the first week of their engagement he had taken to kissing her forehead when she left for her bed in the evenings. Gradually those kisses strayed to her cheek and on one memorable evening even her lips and she was surprised by the tingle it send down her spine. And now that he was her betrothed, she was at liberty to be more familiar around him. To speak his name or hear him speak hers in that low, grumbling voice of his was pure heaven and she found it surprisingly easy to brush her hand over his arm or shoulder regularly.

But more than anything she basked in the knowledge that from now on they would never be apart again. No more long seasons in London, no more fear of him leaving to serve Lady Mary or because he was to retire alone. Instead she got to decorate their new home and prepare for their wedding.

Once she learned that Anna would return to Downton to take over her position she found it easy to give it all up. Anna would make a wonderful housekeeper. So she handed over her keys, her desk, her parlour and her account books and concentrated on her new life.

They were going to be very happy together.

* * *

They married on the first Sunday of January. She wore a new blouse and skirt and as a surprise, the downstairs staff had given her a new hat, one that Anna had trimmed prettily with flowers and a bit of veil. Charles, in his dark-grey suit looked more handsome than she'd ever remembered seeing him.

They managed, with considerable difficulty to keep the wedding the small, quiet event they both wanted. If it were up to the family it would have become a much grander affair, but surprisingly enough it had been Matthew Crawley who had been sensitive enough to understand where their wishes lay and he had kindly but firmly directed all the enthusiasm into a lovely reception, only for those who stood near the couple.  
Elsie now agreed whole-heartily with her husband that one day he would make a fine master of Downton.

Early afternoon the car drove them to their new home and it was with a little flutter of anticipation and delight that Elsie stood on the short, brick path leading up to the front door, still clutching her wedding bouquet. She had been over here countless of times in the last few weeks, arranging furniture, moving their personal possessions and so on. But now it was real. Only now they were truly coming home.

"I really ought to pick you up and carry you over the threshold, Mrs Carson," he whispered in her ear, his voice warm and content.

She shot him a look, barely able to contain her happiness. "Don't you start getting any ideas, Charles Carson," she admonished him, before the grin spilled over her face.

He took her hand and his and let her up to the front door, slowly turning the key and opening the door.

"Oh Charles, look!" she suddenly breathed, distracted by something near her feet. He followed her gaze to the small boarder of ground underneath the window. There, in the dark, barren winter ground grew one single snowdrop.

"That's an early herald for spring," he commented, bending down with some difficulty to pluck it and presenting it to her with a small flourish, never letting go of her hand in the progress.

She took the flower from him and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his briefly. "Let's get in, shall we?"

With their hands firmly clasped and her head resting on his shoulder, they passed the threshold together.

* * *

**This was supposed to be the end, but I couldn´t resist to write another chapter about their life as a married couple. Hopefully it will be up tomorrow.**


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: The thing with writing an extra chapter when your story is technically speaking already finished, is that you run the risk in over-indulging yourself in writing some more pointless, cotton candy fluff.  
__Especially the last part boarders on that. _

* * *

**Chapter 6**

They adjusted to married life surprisingly easily, as if they´d been waiting all their life for this, for their time together. Almost naturally they found a routine that suited them both.  
She loved keeping her own house and adamantly refused to accept any helped, even if Lord Grantham assured them that he would be more than happy to send one of the housemaids over to give her a hand. She found a great satisfaction in sweeping her own floors and dusting her own bookshelves.  
The only concession she did concerned the kitchen. Since she´d had her food prepared for her since she´d went into service at the age of fourteen she had never learned how to cook properly. At first she had attempted to rectify this deficiency, only to discover that she didn´t possess even the slightest hint of talent in that area.

Charles, the dear man, never said a word and cheerfully munched away his coal potatoes, while she began to fret more and more that she would starve the pair of them.  
One afternoon, when she´d come home rather late from the market, she´d found him in the kitchen, trying his hand at a Shepard's pie. The result had been delicious and insisting that he rather enjoyed cooking he had tried out various other recipes over the following week. Eventually she surrendered all her claims to the kitchen and let him ensure they were both well fed.

Having the opportunity and the leisure to pursue their own interests led to them discovering interesting new things about each other.  
As he had intended, Charles devoted a lot of his time to making a study of the British gentry and in time became a rather adapt genealogist.  
She joined the Church´s choir and soon the weekly rehearsals on Thursday morning became one of the highlights of her week. She´d forgotten just how much she enjoyed singing and being at liberty to do just that, without having to worry about other responsibilities.

Now that they no longer had the weight of the household of an entire estate resting on their shoulders, their health didn´t so much improve, but became easier to deal with. He still suffered from gout, but now that he didn´t have to be up on his feet for the most part of the day, it became considerably less painful and when he´d been up half the night because of the throbbing, he could at least sleep in for a few more hours.  
Her eyes continued to be easily tired, but it was a relief not having to go over the tiny scribble in the account books anymore. And to divide her energy better over the day, she´d started to take a short nap in the early afternoon, ensuring that they could keep up their tradition of spending quiet evenings in each other´s company.

But it was the growing intimacy between them that was the greatest source of her happiness. At first she´d worried a bit about it. She´d been courted in her youth, but once she´d become housekeeper, she´d left every thought of entanglement behind her. The thought of embarking on the greatest romance of her life at this age and stage of her life had nearly overwhelmed her in the beginning. Of course she´d always loved him, but it had been a rational, practical kind of love, restricted by their position and propriety.

She had long ago accepted that she would never experience passion, but here she was: past her retirement, married, deeply loved and very much in love.  
And so they set out on the road to intimacy together; hesitantly and careful, but with the same amount of anticipation as if they were youngsters.  
"We have all the time in the world now," he used to reassure her. "There's no hurry for the rest of our lives." And she was convinced there wasn´t a gentler man in the world than Charles Carson.

A little to her surprise they suffered no shortage of visitors. Mr Crawley and Lady Mary visited regularly and after the birth of their first son Reginald they asked the both of them to become his godparents.  
She continued to hear sporadically from Ethel, who had found employment in Ripon. Mrs Bird came by often and as time went by Charles fell into a steady friendship with Richard Clarkson. As a result she was thrown more often in the path of Isobel Clarkson and soon they discovered they had quite many things in common and a friendship between them formed as well.  
Anna became one of their most frequent guests, if her work permitted it, she tried to come over for tea at least once a week.  
On one of those afternoons Elsie had commented to her how surprised she was that everyone seemed to find their way to their cottage so easily. Pleased, for she had feared that after leaving the bustle of a grand house behind, they´d come to feel a little lonely, but surprised nevertheless. Anna had just smiled her sunny smile and asked: "You really don't know, do you?"  
Upon her silent shake of the head, the girl had continued. "It's because you can never leave here and not be in better spirits than you were before you came. Everybody agrees on that. It's just so obvious that you are happy here together that it's a joy to come here and be allowed to share some of that happiness. You know…" a shadow of sadness passed over her face. "I don't know when Mr Bates will be free again and sometimes I worry so much about all this time that is wasting away and that's never coming back. But then I come here and I look at you and Mr Carson and I just know that everything will be alright. That the waiting is worth it."

"Oh my dear girl…" too choked up to say anything else she'd squeezed her hand tightly and gotten up refill the teapot.

* * *

The day had started out differently than she'd grown accustomed to ever since they'd moved into the cottage. It was a chilly morning in autumn again and instead of waking up curled against the warm and solid body of her husband, his side of the bed was already empty. Frowning she put on her dressing-gown and slippers and made her way to the kitchen where she could hear the rattling noise of several pans being handled. Stepping inside she found Charles fully concentrated both on stirring the eggs and frying the bacon. The smell of fresh toast and coffee filled the kitchen and her stomach growled.

"Good morning, love." He'd noticed her entering and after turning the burners down he gathered her in his arms for prolonged kiss. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," she hummed, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest. "What's all this?" she asked then, eyeing the stove.

"I wanted to make you breakfast," he told her. "Just go into the room, I'll be out shortly."

She went back into sitting room and noticed he'd already set the table and had even cut some asters from the garden to put in a vase on the table.  
They had a lovely, leisured breakfast together after which she cleared the dishes away and got dressed. When she returned to the sitting room she found him waiting for her, looking a little nervous and holding a small wrapped package in his hand.

"I hope you like it," he told her when he slipped it in her hand, looking extremely anxious. She knew she would love whatever he had gotten her unconditionally, but once she had opened the box that had emerged from the wrapper she gasped in shock and surprise. "Oh Charles…" She was looking down at a three-string necklace made out of red coral beads and a lovely golden lock, adorned met red coral as well.  
"It's beautiful… but you shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," he told her firmly, taking the necklace from her and putting it on. Once it was secured around her neck, he trailed his fingers over her cheek and temple. "For the past fifteen year or so I wanted to get you something really nice for your birthday. Something that showed how much you mean to me. I can't tell you how many times I've stood in a jewellery shop in London, staring at some necklace or ring that would have looked absolutely beautiful on you without being at liberty to actually buy it for you. I always had to settle for a proper gift; chocolates, or a book… but not anymore."

She'd fallen in his arms after that and kissed him senseless, thinking she was the luckiest, most spoiled woman on earth.

But it hadn't end there. The post brought various cards and letters and a special delivery from Downton. Daisy had made her a beautiful birthday cake, complete with candles.

At the end of the morning she'd quickly gone out to the village for half an hour to ran a few errands. When she entered her street again, she just saw Anna exiting the house, going into the opposite direction. She was too far away to hear or notice her and Elsie was left to wonder at the unusual timing of her visit until she reached the front door.  
She was barely inside when Charles was in front of her, taking her basket from her and helping her out of her coat.  
"Was that Anna I saw leaving just yet?" she asked him. "I thought she was coming tonight?"

"She is," he answered hastily, colouring slightly. "She was here because… I have another surprise for you and I needed Anna's help to bring it about."

She was floored to discover this. Her birthday had never been the cause of much fuss, mainly because she had never let it. But today she seemed to falling from one surprise into the other.

"Close your eyes," he told her, looking as excited as a young boy. She did as he asked and felt him take her hand and guide her through the room. They came to stand at what she guessed was the dining table.  
"Can I look now?" she asked, highly curious now.

"One more moment…" he told her and she heard him move something around and then a tiny cry.

Instinctively, she opened her eyes instantly and stared straight into a wicker basket, containing a small kitten.  
"Oh Charles!" she exclaimed for the second time that day and melting right on the spot. "What a precious little thing!"  
She scooped it up in her hands and cuddled it against her chest where it immediately started to purr loudly.

"According to Anna it's a little girl," he told her, wrapping his arm around her waist and reaching out to stroke the tiny head with one finger. "It really was all that was missing, wasn't it?"

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and happiness. "It was…" she replied, her voice almost disbelieving, thinking she could possibly be more happy than she was at this instant. Turning slightly in his arm, she wrapped her one hand around his neck and guided his head down to hers. He kissed her deeply and passionately, wrapping her up in his embrace and pulling her as close as possible, the kitten sleeping soundly between them.

Eventually they broke away, breathless and beaming. "Let me get this little one," he told her softly, taking the cat from her hands, "and you go and take your nap. The whole lot will be over here tonight and you'll be needing your energy for that."

"Will you join me?" she whispered back, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "It's going to be a long evening for you as well."

He grinned adorably and nodded. "Off you go, I'll be there in a minute."

She went into their bedroom and changed into her nightgown before getting under the sheets. She was already half asleep when she felt him crawling in bed behind her and pulling her in his arms. Snuggling close into his warmth, she was asleep in seconds.

* * *

**If you´d like to see a picture of the necklace Charles got her, take a look at my Live Journal. I´m Miss Puppet on there too.  
Thank you all very much for reading, reviewing and encouraging me!**


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